Marny (9 page)

The man in the blue suit stood, and Marny saw
with some surprise that it was the CEO, Dettwiler von Coburg. As
soon as he rose, everyone else stopped conversing and set their
tablets down. For a long moment, Mr. von Coburg studied the people
seated around the table. His eyes were steel gray in his stern
face. Marny wondered if his silver hair was fake, it looked so
thick and shiny.

At last he sat down again, his gaze fixed on
the interns.

“Welcome,” he said, a faint trace of an
accent in his voice. “I am sure I needn’t tell you what an honor it
is for the three of you to be sitting here, in the heart of one of
the greatest corporations in the world.”

The other people in the room applauded, and
Marny couldn’t tell if it was in greeting or because they were
supposed to respond like that to everything Mr. von Coburg
said.

“It’s an honor, sir,” Anjah said, hitting
just the right note of respect.

“Miss Anjah Lee.” The CEO didn’t bother
glancing at the tablet in front of him. “Your mathematics scores
are impressive. We’re placing you with the data and statistics
team. I’m sure you’ll be able to assist with their various
projects.”

He waved to three people seated across from
Anjah, who each nodded at her in turn.

“I’d be delighted,” Anjah said, with a demure
smile.

“Mr. Wil Cutter.” Mr. von Coburg leaned
forward. “Mechanical genius at a young age—very nice. You will be
working with the structural engineering team.”

“Prime,” Wil said, grinning.

Three guys who had the rumpled look of
engineers nodded to him, and he lifted his hand in return.

“Miss Marny Fanalua.” Mr. von Coburg’s gaze
pinned her to her chair. “You created an app that has swept the
globe, providing a modification scheme no one had envisioned the
need for—until you invented it. We’re assigning you to the social
interfaces design team.”

He nodded at the two women and one man seated
to his left.

“Thank you,” Marny said, though she had very
little idea what she’d just gotten herself into.

Social interfaces design team? It sounded
like calling the cleaning guy an “environmental alignment
specialist.” Except at Intertech, the job was probably way more
involved than mopping floors, and required top-level clearance.

“Now.” Mr. von Coburg held up his hands. “I
trust you three to give Intertech your best work, cooperate with
your team members, and, of course, abide by the nondisclosure
agreement you all signed before arriving.”

Yeah—that contract had serious teeth. If
Marny breathed a word about Intertech to anyone outside the
company, she’d be booted out so fast she probably wouldn’t even
have time to gather her belongings.

Provided her duffel bag ever showed up.

“It’s been a pleasure welcoming you to the
company.” The CEO gave the interns the barest hint of a smile. “I
look forward to weekly updates on your progress. Now, teams, gather
up your hatchlings and get to work.”

He rose, and the rest of the people around
the table quickly stood, as if it wouldn’t do to idle there when
the boss was on his feet. Marny, Wil, and Anjah got up, too. Nobody
said anything as Dettwiler von Coburg paced out of the conference
room without a backward glance.

“We do okay?” Wil asked Brenna in a low
voice, once the CEO was gone.

“You guys are fine,” the liaison said, waving
her hand. “The boss practically smiled at you—a real coup.”

Marny raised her brows, while Anjah preened a
little.

“You heard the man,” Brenna continued. “Get
over to your assigned people. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Good luck, everyone,” Anjah said, tossing
her hair back.

She sauntered over to her team, and after a
quick conversation, they left the room. Wil did the same, trading
backslaps with the engineers in some kind of dude-recognition
ritual.

Marny’s turn. The three people who
represented the social interface design team surrounded her, but
not in a scary way.

“Hey,” Marny said.

“Welcome,” the blonde woman said, with a
decidedly French accent. “I am Madame Fontaine. These are my
colleagues, Ms. Hanley and Ser Jellicoe.”

Marny nodded and shook hands all around. She
guessed Ms. Hanley was American, but Ser Jellicoe stumped her. He
looked Native Australian, maybe, with tribal tattoos snaking down
his arms, and a smile that gleamed whitely in his dark face.

“Come on down to the twenty-ninth,” he said.
“Meet all the gang. We’ll get you settled.”

“Okay.” She followed Ser Jellicoe into the
hallway.

“Nice work on that app,” Ms. Hanley said.
“Really creative stuff.”

“Thanks, Ms. Han—”

“Please, don’t take Madame’s formality to
heart.” The brown-haired woman smiled at her. “Call me Angie. And
he’s Jelly.” She nodded at Ser Jellicoe.

Marny could handle using the name Angie, but
she didn’t think she’d be comfortable calling anyone Jelly, let
alone a supervisor. Madame clearly would always be Madame—and
nobody suggested otherwise.

“How did you come up with the idea of No
Compromise?” Madame Fontaine asked as they stepped into the
elevator. She keyed in the floor number with one flawlessly
manicured finger.

“I was tired of the same old types of avatar
choices,” Marny said. “Especially the skinny ones with idealized
proportions. I mean, it was either play them, or go for the really
gross monster avas. I’d been trying to mod my gaming characters for
a couple years, and finally found a way to make it stick.”

“I’d say.” Angie laughed. “Got anything else
you’re working on?”

“I’m pretty open right now. Maybe an idea or
two, nothing solid. I’d love to see what you guys are working
on.”

“Our team specializes in primary customer
interfaces,” Ser Jellicoe said. “That includes things like avatar
creation as well as social media outreach.”

“One of our projects involves designing new
voice modules,” Madame Fontaine said.

“Really?” Marny couldn’t
curb her enthusiasm. “I’ve been starting to think about different
dialogue options. What people say and
how
they say it is nearly as
important as how they look. I’m not sure the regular settings give
enough nuance, you know?”

“Excellent.” Madame gave her an approving
nod. “Miss Fanalua, sit down with Ms. Hanley and familiarize
yourself with our current projects. I’ll be interested in your
feedback. That will be your first assignment.”

“Great.” Marny grinned at Angie, who winked
back at her.

Maybe this internship wasn’t going to be so
fearsome after all.

Mid-June

A
light breeze swirled through the Bright Court, setting the
gemmed flowers on the jade-leafed trees clinking. The floating
motes of pixies spun and glowed, their chiming laughter drifting
over the court. A jig lilted through the air and the feasting
tables were crowded with cheerful denizens of the Bright Realm. Yet
despite this levity, the Bright King’s expression was pensive as he
sat upon his throne.

His spriggan guard had not returned, and the
king had come to the reluctant conclusion that the creatures of the
Realm of Faerie would not be able to use these so-called bubble
worlds to enter the human realm.

There were other ways, however, of crossing
the boundary between the worlds.

The king gestured to one of his courtiers, a
slender youth garbed in pale green with wings of the same color
tightly furled against his back.

“Verdan,” the king said as the faerie made
him a low bow, “I desire to speak with Puck. Go search him out and
ask him to present himself as soon as he might.”

“Yes, my liege.” The courtier leapt lightly
into the air, his wings opening to bear him away.

The Bright King watched until Verdan
disappeared beyond the shining trees. While he wished he could
summon the sprite to appear immediately, Puck was a tricksy faerie
and not the king’s to command. If Puck felt too put-upon, he would
remove himself in rebuke to the Dark Court for a time, well beyond
the king’s reach. It behooved the king to tread carefully—though
being forced to issue such a polite summons grated upon him.

Still, Puck was a useful fellow, and a good
ally when he chose to be. And for the errand the king had in mind,
there was no better emissary than the mischievous sprite.

Nyx stood in the center of the warehouse,
hands on his hips. The buzz of drills and the steady thwack of an
air-compressor nail-gun filled the air, along with lots of dust
particles and the smell of new paint.

It was all his, and it was prime.

The process of leasing the building and
starting the remodel had been mostly seamless, although jumping
through permit hoops at the city hall had been a pain. But now it
was just about finished and he was ready to move in.

First priority had been fixing up the living
space. The construction crew had done a good job with it, and now
the bedroom, spare room, bathroom, and little kitchen/living area
were complete, plus extra bathrooms for the club side.

The next step was putting in some furniture
and making the place his own.

“We’ll miss you, hon,” his mom had said at
dinner the night before. “Are you absolutely sure you want to move
out?”

“I’m eighteen now,” he’d replied. “Isn’t that
what I’m supposed to do?”

She’d given him a sad-eyed look that was only
partially in jest. “You know we love having you around.”

“Speak for yourself.” Emmie made a face at
him over the salad bowl. “He’s loud and annoying and leaves messes
all over.”

“It’s not my fault you have an issue with my
socks,” Nyx said, mostly to rile her up.

“They’re disgusting! You leave them right
there on the couch, and—”

“Stop.” Their dad held up a hand. “Carolyn,
maybe it’s not a bad thing for Onyx to get his own place.”

“No kidding.” Emmie narrowed her eyes at
him.

“You’ll have to do my portion of the chores
now, don’t forget.” He gave her an evil smile.

“So
worth it.”

“At least plan to have dinner with us a
couple nights a week,” his mom said, ignoring Emmie’s drama.

“I will.” He’d patted his mom’s arm. “It’s
not as if I’m going far.”

“Unlike me in three years, when I’m actually
going off to college like the smart people do,” Emmie said.

“You’d be lucky to make a fraction of your
brother’s income in three years,” Dad said mildly. “I believe he’s
on track to be a millionaire by the age of twenty-five.”

“And you’ll have a pile of debts, instead.”
Nyx took a bite of mashed potatoes, then grinned at her, letting
some of the potato slip through his teeth.

“Ew. You are so immature. I
don’t understand at
all
how you manage to make so many credits—or have so
many fans. People are idiots.”

Nyx shrugged. The truth was, he’d been
surprised at how many people had subscribed to his Flail channel to
watch him and his best friend play old-school games.

“Durham has all the fans,” Nyx said, though
he knew they both had plenty of followers.

“At least he’s good-looking. You, I just
don’t get.” Emmie shook her head.

“Some people appreciate the subtle, dangerous
look,” Nyx’s mom said, giving her husband a fond glance.

Nyx shared his dad’s lean build and prominent
cheekbones, though Dad’s hair was a shade darker than Nyx’s amber
blond. And Nyx had more muscles, from all his time in the dojo.

“Mom.” Nyx could feel the top of his ears
heating. “People just like to watch two guys joking around while
they play old console games.”

Though he had to admit they’d provided some
fine entertainment. He and Durham had always been able to crack
each other up. Add in the vintage gaming angle, and their channel
had been surprisingly popular. And profitable.